


Insane Afternoon

by ninamazing



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Weeds
Genre: Community: bsg_pornbattle, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-30
Updated: 2009-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamazing/pseuds/ninamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Life gets more difficult as one grows older; time passes too quickly, and things that once seemed easy are now straight-up impossible without a glass of wine.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Insane Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [bsg_pornbattle](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/3561.html?thread=291049#t291049) at LiveJournal.

Life gets more difficult as one grows older; time passes too quickly, and things that once seemed easy are now straight-up impossible without a glass of wine. Nancy sometimes looks into the eyes of her clients and wonders what she's missing — if the parade of clusterfucks that make up her life post-Judah would end if only she took a toke. She doubts it.

And she screams, like an idiot in a horror movie, when a breasty blonde pops into her living room and looks around in a state of utter confusion.

"Lee?" the woman calls. "Lee?"

Nancy's wineglass is shaking in her shellshocked fingers, but her brain still works (as always), and she figures out who it is.

"Kara?" she says, and laughs at how insane she sounds. She puts down the glass — it nearly breaks — and laughs again. It comes out like a cackle, or a hiccup maybe. "Kara Thrace, right? Starbuck. I watch your show, it's _great_. I might be a few weeks behind — you know, life — but they're all on my DVR."

"Who the frak are you?" says the woman who is definitely Kara. "Where am I?"

Nancy giggles, and wishes she had a mocha frappuccino to temper the effects of her wine.

"I'm Nancy Botwin," she says, "and you're on Earth."

Kara's eyes widen.

"I'm sorry!" Nancy adds. "Was that a surprise? Sorry, this is big for you, isn't it?"

"Don't worry about it," Kara says, and laughs — it would seem manic, maybe, frightening, if the sound weren't so beautiful. Nancy feels herself calming just from the glory of that impossible smile, from the way Kara Thrace multiplies the wattage of every lightbulb in her cookie-cutter house.

"This is Earth, huh?" Kara continues. "Another Earth. I can't even frakkin' tell the difference between 'em anymore."

Nancy makes a grab for the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, and holds it up.

"Wine helps," she tells Kara, and grins.

"It does," Kara answers, and she's swigging the rest before Nancy has a chance to remember where she keeps the rest of her glassware. It's better that Kara drinks like this, anyway; Nancy would never relegate this ball-busting heroine to one of Andy's kitschy shot glasses.

It happens because Nancy finishes her glass at the moment Kara's finishing her wine. Or it happens because the widow Botwin needs a plan, needs expertise, needs weapons, and the Viper pilot has all of those and then some. It happens because confusion is so easily mitigated by sex. It happens because Kara's skin feels like butter, and tastes like mangoes. It happens because Nancy's pale, flawless legs against Kara's weathered ones are a confluence that burns like the end of a joint.

They tear apart her kitchen table (Nancy's pretty sure her glass has broken, and Shane's _Popular Science_ issues are unwrinkled no more), twining tongues and laughing at each other. It's casual, intense; sudden, delicious; fucked-up and fateful; Nancy's lips are damp from Kara's kisses, and Kara's arms are pressed into the counter under hers.

It seems so obvious to Nancy that life is no longer quite as difficult — that when people say everything happens for a reason, they aren't just pontificating jerks.

This is insanity.


End file.
